Coffee and Cats
by Nine Days a Queen
Summary: AU college setting. At the coffee shop where Eugenides usually spends his afternoons, he repeatedly encounters a stormy-eyed woman who peaks his interests.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Coffee and Cats**

**Author: ninedaysaqueen **

**Beta: openedlocket **

**Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of _The Thief, The Queen of Attolia, The King of Attolia, A Conspiracy of Kings_, nor of any characters, locations, and elephants contained within. All rights of the _Queen's Thief _series belong exclusively to Megan Whalen Turner and her respective publishers.**

**Spoilers: Books 1-2**

**Genre: AU/Romance/Drama**

**Summary: AU college setting. At the coffee shop where Eugenides usually spends his afternoons, he repeatedly encounters a stormy-eyed woman who peaks his interests.**

**Author's Notes: Written for earthstar_moon, who requested a Gen/Irene AU college setting.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>The bell rung as she entered.<p>

That in itself was nothing special. The bell on the door rang for anyone who walked inside The Black Cat_._ Away from the wind, the rain, or the heat of late summer to wrap their fingers around a hot mocha or a chilled glass of green tea.

But there was always a tone, a step, a presence, a don't-mess-with-me vibe that told him it was her. He wondered if that was how she always looked and walked. If she'd enter a church service or a florist shop, with the same challenging click of her heels.

Chewing the tip of his pencil, he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, trying to pretend he wasn't watching her every move. He wondered of she was married. If she had any kids. If her favorite drink was a soy Irish latte or if that was simply the most appealing thing to her on the menu. He wondered what foods she liked. If she ever wore anything other then office heels. Mostly, he just wondered a lot. Especially after bell curve graphs and Latin verb conjugations had turned his brain to mush, and he needed a distraction.

He put his pen to a sheet of paper once more, pretending to do homework, though he was actually sketching the abstract building shapes and whimsy tree murals that ran along the wall.

She ordered at the counter, handing the clerk her credit card and digging in her purse for a tube of lipstick. Pocketing her wallet and makeup, she took a seat in a nearby corner. The floor boards creaked under her weight like they only did in these hundred-year-old downtown buildings.

Glancing at the counter, he remembered who was on staff today. Lauren was a cute but not particularly fast barista, and his mystery woman pulled a book from her bag to pass the minutes. He peeked his head around his notebook to catch the title. Something called _The Queen of Attolia_. He wondered if it was interesting.

"Do you mind?"

He jumped and jerked his wrist across his sketch making the maple tree look like a victim of a particularly deranged lumberjack. "Sorry," he muttered innocently and stiffened his shoulders as he re-stacked his textbooks on the other side of the table, for no particularly good reason other then to move his textbooks to the other side of the table. Sometimes his capacity for tact surprised even himself.

"You're here often," she observed, not taking her eyes off her book. "You also stare quite often." He looked away, avoiding her face.

"I'd recommend someone closer to your own age." She looked up, smiling unkindly. "Maybe even someone who's interested." She stressed the final word, making it clear she wasn't either one.

He cringed and turned his books to form a diamond shape on the table as she stood up to wait for her drink at the long bar.

"I wasn't staring," he said to her back, biting the inside of his cheek. "You make a lot of noise with those shoes, you know... Kinda hard not to notice you."

She turned, her arms poised delicately like one of those Greek sculptures the art students liked to imitate and display in the courtyard. Her glare spoke volumes. She picked up her drink and stormed out the door.

Eugenides failed to hide his amused grin.

Lauren peeked her head around the expresso machine and beamed at him from behind the counter. "I wouldn't cross swords with the Dragon Lady if I were you, Gen," the young woman said, pouring a bag of coffee beans into the top of the machine.

"Dragon Lady?" he asked. He flipped his notebook closed and leaned his elbows against the table.

Lauren shrugged. "It's what we call her, anyhow. Always orders the same thing; always storms about like she's got rocks in her shoes and the devil in her eyes. Maybe she does..." She titled her head to the side reflectively.

"Do you know where she works?" Eugenides gave Lauren a coy smile.

"Ah... I know that look. Don't go chasing that one, Gen. She's from the college. Where you go to school." Lauren narrowed her eyes with a I've-got-a-good-point air.

Eugenides frowned. It wasn't like he was going to ask her out. He was just curious, and there wasn't much to get curious about in a little campus town such as this.

"Lauren..." He laid on the honey, thick and sweet, in his voice. "Have I ever mentioned how wonderful the coffee you make is, or how good you look in that apron?"

The barista laughed. "The D-Lady's name is Irene..." she paused to think. "At least, that's the name she tells us to put on her cup when we're busy. But that's all you're getting outta me, understood?" She pointed a finger at him. "Refill?"

He offered up his empty mug by the handle. "Hit me."

**-X-X-X-**

He was a three class student with work study. Two classes in the morning and one in the early evening with work in between. The Black Cat was the warmest place to spend his free time within walking distance of campus. And compared to his dorm, the little coffee house was an eastern palace of gold walls and lavender incense.

The halls of the student resident building were narrow enough to make Eugenides suspicious of whether they met fire code regulations or not. The floor was covered with a dingy, purple carpet that probably hadn't been new since the 1970s. Cracks webbed the drywall, and the sub-woof of a bad rap song vibrated the molding on the ceiling. And the worst part? The whole building stunk like a moldy gym sock. Eugenides clenched his jaw. He was so getting an apartment next semester.

His door was open to the hall, and he heard voices and the nondescript blip and bleep noises of a video game from inside. He rolled his eyes as he registered who and what the sounds belonged to.

"Go back to your own room, Bambi," Eugenides snarled as he entered, throwing his bag on his desk.

Duke Ambiades, better known by his last name, glanced over his shoulder but didn't respond directly to the taunt. Instead, he nudged Eugenides's roommate, Sophos, who sat next to him on their makeshift sofa of cardboard and a flattop cooler. "Tell your roommate to get lost, Sophos."

Sophos glanced back and forth between the two boys. As a friend to both sides of the "Romulus and Remus" of college campuses, Sophos always tried to play the pacifist. He wasn't very good at it.

"This is my room," Eugenides argued. "I can kick out anyone I want. Go play your blood games on the other side of that large, rectangular hole in the wall." He pointed to the door.

"Medal of Honor isn't a blood game, Gen" said Sophos considerately. "It's a World War II simulation that's quite good, actually."

Eugenides sighed. "That's exactly why I don't like it, Sophos. Read a book on the Polynesian War or the Crusades of Jerusalem. See how much fun war was for those who actually fought it." He took a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and broke the seal.

Sophos glanced at the screen then back at Eugenides. "But nobody uses swords in this game. Do you mean World of Warcraft?"

Eugenides groaned, slamming his drink down on his desk. Sometimes Sophos missed the point entirely.

He walked across the room and opened his closet to pull out his shower basket. "I'm gonna go get my shower. When I come back, I expect to see only one of you still in here." He pointed at Sophos and glared at Ambiades. "Got it?"

"Tell me when your soapbox gets dull, loser," Ambiades called over his shoulder, and Eugenides left the room. He heard Sophos mutter reproachfully, "Duke..."

**-X-X-X-**

When Eugenides came back, the TV was off, and his roommate was the only one still in the room.

"What possesses you to let that jerk in?" Eugenides asked as he shut the door.

Sophos was reading at his desk but looked up at the sound of his roommate's voice. "He just wanted to play a game." Sophos shrugged and suddenly found the scratches on his desktop very interesting. "I know you don't like him, Gen, but he's nice to me."

"No, he's not, Sophos," said Eugenides, slamming his closet door for emphasis. "He condescends to talk to you, just like he condescends to do anything with the rest of us lowlifes." Eugenides leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

Sophos was silent.

Eugenides sighed and banged the back of his head against the crackled drywall. Though they were in the same year, Sophos was a few years younger than him, having passed his GED at the impressive age of sixteen. He knew Sophos felt out of place and was short on friends, and Eugenides suddenly felt like as much of a jerk as he knew Ambiades was.

He reluctantly gave in. "Hang out with him if you want. Just kick him out before I get back in the evenings, alright?"

Sophos smiled. "I can do that. How was the coffee house?"

Eugenides slide open his desk drawer, putting away his keys and drawing pencils. "Fine. Same as-" He broke the sentence abruptly. "Sophos?" he asked with alarm.

Sophos looked up. "Something wrong?"

Eugenides turned to face him. "I had a Franklin taped to the bottom of this drawer. Did you take it?"

Sophos scrunched his eyebrows together and shook his head. "No... I didn't even know you kept money in your desk."


	2. Chapter 2

Eugenides ordered a bottomless mug of black tea the next day, needing the high dosage of caffeine to stay awake. His missing money had kept him awake all night. Since Sophos said that Ambiades had been the only other person in their room that whole evening, he was starting to wonder if he should report the senior student to the dean as a potential thief.

"Ah... bugger," he muttered, as he realized he'd drained his mug of tea yet again.

The bell rung.

Irene Izmir-he'd looked her up on the campus directory the day before-paid for her drink and took a seat on the retro church pew that was pushed against the far wall, pointedly avoiding looking in his direction.

He pulled his sketchbook out of his shoulder book bag and flipped it open to his most recent drawing. He stood and walked to her table, setting the sketchbook down on the glossy tabletop for her to see.

She didn't appear startled, only glanced up at him with mild irritation before looking down at the sketch. "Are you stalking me?" she asked drily, pressing her bright gold nails into the handmade paper. It was a realistic sketch of her sitting at a table with her legs elegantly crossed; hard lines made in bold charcoal but softened by highlights drawn in soft pencil lead.

Eugenides shrugged. "I'd have to look up the legal definition. Do you like it?" he asked hopefully.

She didn't respond, merely turned the page to the previous drawing-one he'd made of the weeping willows in the park. "Are you an art student?" she wanted to know, looking up at Eugenides once more.

He grimaced and pulled out the chair across from her. "Science major. My dad's a general in the army. Wants me to build the next atom bomb and help him take over the world." He made a sour face. "Better than the military, anyways..."

The corners of her mouth turned up into a half-smile. "This journal is handmade," she observed, turning it over and examining the cover.

He raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, my mom made those before she died. It was her hobby, making paper and stitching it together to make journals and sketchbooks.

Irene returned his drawings, considering him seriously. "Your mother was an artist?"

He shrugged. "She dabbled. Sold a few paintings here and there. She stayed at home with me and my brothers and sisters for the most part. With my dad's job and everything, we moved around a lot."

Irene pressed her lips together thoughtfully. "So, what brings you here? To this sleepy campus town?"

Eugenides looked away from Irene to glance briefly out the window. "We lived near this town when my mom died. Thought it'd be a good place to... you know... Discover myself." He smiled.

She smiled too, almost gently this time.

"So... enough about me," he said, tapping the table with his knuckles. "You're a professor of..."

"Linguistics. Mediterranean linguistics to be specific. I also teach advanced Latin and Greek to the archeology students."

"Ah, Latin... Ugh..." he said drily.

She chuckled, showing her large, straight teeth. "I've seen you in the language department near my office. Most students take Spanish or French to fill their foreign language requirement." She smiled amusedly. "Or at the very least, a language that people are still born speaking somewhere in the world."

He laughed. "I had a foreign language and a non-western studies requirement. I thought... Hey! Kill two birds with one stone!" He cringed. "I've learned my lesson."

She laughed at that. Seeing her happy was a refreshing change from her usual expressions of stone and fire.

The milk steamer on the expresso machine turned off, and Lauren called the professor's name, setting her drink down on the counter.

Irene's smile evaporated, suddenly seeming to remember where she was and who she was talking to. "I have to go," she said abruptly, standing up and swinging her purse over her shoulder. "Nice to finally meet you... umm..."

"Ah, Eugenides," he said, standing up to shake her hand.

She raised a single eyebrow. "That's a good Greek name." She nodded approvingly. "It means the well-born. You should be proud of that name..." she lowered her voice, "...along with some other things you may've taken for granted."

She picked up her drink and waved as she walked out the door.

He watched her leave and picked up his sketchbook, running his fingers across the binding.

**-X-X-X-**

The moon was at harvest that night, peeking over the top of the hill; it's blood orange color a lull to an insomniac such as himself. Eugenides pressed his fingers to the cool glass. His warm breath misted the pane.

"Gen?" said Sophos, sleepily. "Is something wrong?"

Eugenides didn't shift his gaze away from the window. A mild shrug was his only response. "Do you know why the moon is orange sometimes, Sophos? I can't remember."

Sophos sat up and pushed back the covers to press his feet flat to the floor. "It's just a refraction of light. It changes the color of the light we see, usually around the autumn equinox and when the moon is rising," explained Sophos with a yawn.

"So, so, so... Somethings can appear misshapen in translation, hmm?" observed Eugenides cryptically.

"I suppose..." Sophos stared at his roommate curiously. "What's on your mind?"

Eugenides took a deep breath. "Do you think I should report Ambiades to the dean? I think he stole my hundred."

"Gen..." Sophos began cautiously. "Ambiades is here on a football scholarship. If he gets accused of stealing, it may ruin his chances of graduating."

"I know that, Sophos..." Eugenides sighed. "That's why I haven't said anything yet."

"And even if you do talk to the dean, you don't have any proof. Plus, I was in the room the entire time. I would've noticed if he'd-"

"And you never took a bathroom break?" injected Eugenides, his tone biting.

It was Sophos's turn to sigh, and a silence settled over them both.

"Growing up sucks, you know that?" Eugenides said abruptly. Sophos lifted his eyes. "The older you get, the harder it is to tell what's right anymore."

Sophos snorted. "You can say that again."

**-X-X-X-**

A few days later, he decided to ask for advice.

"What's your opinion on stealing?"

Irene's jaw dropped, and she turned sharply to meet his gaze. He nails were painted a deep violet today, and she dig her fingertips into the lip of her paper coffee cup, attempting to secure the lid.

"You've got the wrong size," he pointed out. "That's a large."

She looked down and sighed, tossing the lid now smeared with latte froth and wiped her fingers with a compostable napkin. "Should I be concerned, Eugenides?"

"Ah... no... This is not about me." He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I was just wondering what would you do if you thought someone took something? Would you report it even if it got them into a lot of trouble?"

Irene bit her lip. "Well... If you do the crime, you do the time. Is this a theoretical question or...?" She sat down, her cup cradled between her hands. Eugenides joined her.

"There's this guy my roommate is friends with," Eugenides elaborated. "I don't really like him myself, but anyhow, they were playing Medal while I was out-"

"Metal?" Irene interrupted with a confused frown.

"No..." Eugenides shook his head. "Medal of Honor. Anyhow... As I was saying, when I got back, I was missing some money." He bit his lip. "And I still can't find it."

Irene took a sip. "Hmm, I suppose he could be the culprit or..." she trailed off and leaned closer. "Or your dislike of him is coloring your opinion. Could anyone else have taken the money?"

Eugenides shrugged. There were locks on the doors and windows, but even so, dorms weren't exactly the most secure places in the world. He really didn't know what to make of the whole thing.

"I think you're a smart kid, Eugenides," said Irene, nodding considerately. "You'll figure out what the right decision is."


	3. Chapter 3

Eugenides stood in front of the dean's office.

This section of campus was the newest part of the educational infrastructure. The dean's office along with the Bursar's office and other places of importance all branched off the domed atrium. Students often referred to it as Rome, for it was to its gleaming walls and marble engraved alumni that to all roads led.

The dean was also a professor of archeology, specializing in Middle Eastern artifacts; and because of the yellowed pieces of pottery and camel pelts that decorated his office, he was commonly referred to as the magus across the campus. The singular term for the wise men of the Middle East, the magi.

It was lunch time, and the lobby was dead quiet. The exaggerated gloss of the cherrywood door seemed to mock Eugenides where he stood, and he glared menacingly at the little gold sign.

The door nearly smacked him in the face. The magus was startled and stepped back, almost dropping his briefcase. "Oh, I'm-" he began to apologize, but trailer off when he saw who he'd almost given a bloody nose. "Oh, it's you..."

Eugenides smiled sheepishly and waved an awkward greeting. During freshmen year, Eugenides had been the prime suspect of several childish pranks on campus, including an unflattering drawing that had been scribbled on the magus's portrait in the main hall. Much to the magus's grief, nothing was ever been proven in regards to Eugenides's guilt. The security camera footage had mysteriously disappeared and even the offending ink eventually vanished into the canvas.

"Was there something you needed, Eugene?" the magus asked coldly.

"It's Eugenides," he corrected. "Got a moment?"

"I suppose I must. Walk with me?" the old man requested, waving his hand in a 'follow me' gesture.

"I have a concern I'd like to report," said Eugenides, running after the magus.

"This concern wouldn't include a confession, would it?" sarcastically added the dean.

" 'Fraid not, sir," Eugenides answered with a hint of smug mirth.

The magus's frowned. "So, so, so, what's seems to be the trouble?"

Silence.

Eugenides stopped. The magus stopped too and turned to peer curiously at the student. "Son?" he asked warily.

After a long moment of quiet, Eugenides shook himself. "I think we need better food in the mess hall. Preferably, lettuce in the salad bar that's green and meat on the hot bar that's not."

The magus glared. "You've got a lot of nerve, son, if..." the old man began to say, but he trailed off into a sigh. "But I suppose, that's not always such a bad thing. Your concern has been noted, and if there's nothing else..."

Eugenides shook his head. "Nope. Don't let me keep you from your green lettuce," he called after the dean.

The magus half-rolled his eyes in exasperation. Turning sharply, he left. A breeze of crisp air blew into the hall as the door swung shut.

**-X-X-X-**

Eugenides nearly fractured his door sill as he stormed into his room and fell heavily into the chair at his desk. Leaning forward, he whacked his forehead on the rounded edge of the work space. When this didn't prove satisfactory, Eugenides considered another attempt; but Sophos stopped him with a tap on the shoulder.

"I've got some good news." Sophos smiled enigmatically, his hands hidden behind his back.

"Define good," muttered Eugenides grumpily.

Sophos grinned and pulled his hands out from behind him. Pinched in between two of his fingers was a hundred dollar bill.

Eugenides snatched it from Sophos's grip, unfolding it in a flurry. It was a little worse for wear than he remembered, but it had an identical five digit code written across Franklin's forehead. It was the same bill. "Where was it?" Eugenides asked urgently, standing up.

Sophos cringed. "You'll laugh, and I'm sorry I forgot to mention this before, but I borrowed a vacuum from one of the girls on the next floor and cleaned under all the furniture. It must have fallen somewhere behind your desk, and I found it inside the vacuum canister when I thought to check today." Sophos averted his eyes. "I'm really sorry..."

Setting the money on his desk, Eugenides sat down again, leaning his elbows on his knees. He sprawled his hands across his face, but he couldn't stop his shoulders from shaking in mirth.

"Gen...?" said Sophos warily. "Are you laughing?"

Eugenides jumped to his feet and grabbed Sophos's shoulders in a friendly hug. "Yes, I'm laughing!" he exclaimed. "I'm laughing, because you're so ridiculous. And I love it!"

**-X-X-X-**

"Hey! Bambi!" Eugenides shouted down the hall. Ambiades turned sharply, catching the air born football as deftly as a pro.

"You can have that," Eugenides said as he walked closer, smiling knowingly.

Ambiades held the football in front of him, examining it as if he thought it might explode. "This is signed by Steve Young," observed Ambiades dubiously.

"Yup..." Eugenides drawled. "My dad took me and my brothers to a game one year, and got us all autographed balls." He shrugged. "Never been into sports much myself, so you can keep that."

Ambiades's jaw dropped.

Eugenides smirked impishly and walked passed Ambiades, continuing down the hall.

**-X-X-X-**

"Drink that." She set a cup of something frothy and milky down in front of him. He glanced up at her through his eyelashes and set his pen down. It was the first time he hadn't notice her come in beforehand. "When did you..." he trailer off.

Her eyes twinkled, and she propped her right heel on the edge of the pew. She was wearing a pair of soft, leather Mary Janes. "Thought I'd take your advice, and I must say, these are much easier on my toes."

He snorted and picked up the drink she'd offered him, sniffing it suspiciously. "What is this?" he asked, swirling the hot drink about in the mug as much as he could without spilling.

"Cider latte. You drink too much non-herbal teas. All that caffeine is bad for you," said Irene reproachfully.

He rolled his eyes, taking a sip. It was actually quite good. "Thank you, mother," he countered with a coy smirk.

Irene crossed her arms. "I'm not quite that old... might I remind you."

Eugenides set his cup down and sighed. "I didn't mean it like that. You're not old at all."

Irene remained expressionless. "I'm twenty-nine and how old are you, Eugenides?"

He glared at her grumpily. "Almost twenty."

"Exactly..." she leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her latte. "On one hand, my TA is only three years younger than myself, and on the other hand, you're barely an adult." She studied him critically. "I'm very young to be a professor, and I've worked hard to get where I am. You understand that I would never jeopardize my position?"

Eugenides's good humor vanished from his face. "This your way of telling me to stop talking to you?"

Irene shook her head. "Not at all. This is my way of telling you that when you graduate none of this will matter."

Eugenides smiled contently. It was as close to a promise as he was going to get. "No meeting the parents then?" he asked jokingly.

The light drained from Irene's eyes, and Eugenides frowned at her reaction.

She looked away. "I was emancipated at age sixteen, Eugenides," she said, turning to meet his eyes again. Her expression remained distant. "I grew up in foster homes after my parents died in a car accident."

"Oh..." Eugenides began, but found himself at a loss for words. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Irene smirked. "Of course, you didn't. I never told you."

An easy silence fell between them, till Irene broke it with a question.

"Did you sort out your problem?" She tilted her mug in his direction. "With your roommate's friend, I mean?"

This startled Eugenides from his revery. "Oh, yes," he said nodding. "Yes, I did. Turns out my roommate sucked up my money with a vacuum cleaner." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "You were right. I jumped to the wrong conclusion."

Irene smiled. "I knew that you'd figure it out, and now... I have a more important question."

Eugenides cringed but waited expectantly.

"Have you ever considered taking an art class or even making it your minor?"

Eugenides shook his head. "A science major with an art minor... Yeah, that makes a lot of sense."

Irene frowned. "I've been honest with you, haven't I?" He opened his mouth to protest but was cut short.

"Now, I want you to be honest with yourself." She leveled a finger at him. Her nails were painted a vivid red today. "Take an art course next semester."

Eugenides lowered his gaze and traced the scratches on the table with his fingertips. "Eugenides?" Irene said seriously, and Eugenides sighed.

"It's a promise." He picked up his latte mug and tapped it against her's. "A coffee promise."

They both drank.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading,<strong>

**ninedaysaqueen**


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